


Background Noise

by gigantic



Category: Entourage
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-15
Updated: 2004-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-24 14:33:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigantic/pseuds/gigantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of firsts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Background Noise

_and what is the meaning of this life, you_  
may ask? well, some of us live to be  
background noise in the world of those who  
go after the prize  
\- simplesimon, "read the fine print on the ticket to ride"

 

_eleven_

Even if Vince did completely blow their game that day, he jumped in without hesitation when the fat kid on the other team punched Eric in the middle of the court, basically cancelling out any earlier offenses. Turtle made his lay-up and rushed back to kick the kid in the leg, and Eric and Turtle had handled bigger assholes by themselves before, but when he looked over and saw Vince get one of the other guys in the stomach, he just went back to making his own marks and didn't think twice about it.

They ended up sitting on Vince's stoop that afternoon. His parents worked later than Eric's or Turtle's, and Vince had Johnny bring peroxide and toilet paper outside, the three of them cleaning cuts and talking shit.

"E, you shut him down," Turtle said, and he re-enacted Eric's blow with his own sound effects. "Man, you totally blindsided him."

"Turtle, that was Vince, not me," and Eric looked up two steps toward Vince, who was busy wiping off his knuckles. "Thanks."

"Yeah, good lookin' out." Turtle punched at Vince's shin appreciatively from where he sat, and then moved up top to tell the whole story to Johnny.

Eric laughed, and Vince came down next to him. He shook his hand out, hissing a little. He asked, "You guys playing tomorrow?" and Eric figured that was when it really started, because Eric had known Vince in passing before, but the four of them were together everyday for the rest of the week and then everyday after that, too.

 

 

 

_fourteen_

Vince didn't get lead roles in the first few plays he auditioned for, but Eric, Johnny, and Turtle always sat up front opening night, tossed flowers from the school's bushes outside onstage, and cheered louder for him than anyone.

Turtle met and tried to make out with Suzette Wallace one of those nights, but it turned out that she liked Eric more, and Vince didn't like her at all.

"What do you mean you don't like her?" Eric asked, because he'd been seeing her for two weeks by then.

Vince finished off his own fries, reached over to steal some of Eric's. "I'm just saying. I heard some stuff about her."

"Eric, she does have a reputation," Johnny agreed. Turtle flicked a pickle slice at his forehead.

"Oh, but it was cool when Turtle wanted her -- "

"I just wanted to hook up," Turtle interjected.

Eric said, "You know what? Whatever," but he and Suzette didn't last out another week after that, so none of it mattered in the end.

 

 

 

_fifteen_

Johnny, apparently, knew some people who knew other people who could supply their high-priced demands, and the weekend Eric's parents went out of town, they decided to hold an all-night event. Eric took all the sheets and blankets from his bed and piled them on the living room floor for whenever they nodded off. The four of them sat around smoking hashish and laughing at Turtle's cheesy porns about lesbian aliens and horny cavemen for hours, Vince watching upside down with his legs over the back of the couch and Eric's calves across his stomach.

Just as dawn hit, Eric stepped over a snoring Turtle to get some more pizza from the kitchen, but all five boxes were empty when he checked. He frowned at cardboard and heard a toilet flush, Vince emerging from the hallway minutes later.

"E, do you know that my brother's sleeping in your in bathtub?" Vince asked, giggling and disoriented. He opened one of the pizza boxes, frowned as well, and then pushed it aside.

"What? Wait," and Eric scratched his head. "When did he. Should we wake him up?"

"Nah. No." Vince kept laughing. He slid down to the floor, back against the refrigerator and his voice echoing above him. He fell asleep with his face against a cabinet.

Around noon, Johnny and Turtle left to buy more herb. Vince couldn't find the pipe they had been using, so Eric sat in front of the television, knife in hand. He carved out the insides of an apple to make a new pipe, making use of the last of the hash and taking the first hit. Vince sat down on the coffee table behind him, grabbing for the apple. He managed to get a couple good hits before he and Eric were both grappling for the very last puff.

Somehow, the apple ended up on the floor, any possible remainder wasted and Eric only realized that after he acknowledged Vince's knee between his legs. Vince's mouth lingered somewhere near his shoulder, and Eric was about to play it off until he exhaled and Vince looked up at him from under a mess of hair.

Vince had a soft mouth, and the rest of him smelled like smoke. Eric kissed him with his eyes closed, wanting, and his hand had only gotten as far as Vince's abdomen when the knock came and Turtle called their names through wood.

 

 

 

_seventeen_

The semester Vince did finally make his debut as leading man, they hung around after curtain call and drank booze on the roof of the auditorium. Turtle pissed off the side, aiming for an open dumpster below, and Drama -- Johnny planned on getting into the plays next semester and had already picked out his modified stage name -- Drama got plastered before all of them, because he was still sort of a lightweight despite his best efforts.

Vince stood to the side as Eric read the cast list from the program. "Corinne Davis, Danny Schiller, Jody Masters -- "

"E, come _on_ ," Vince called, rocking forward on the balls of heels and then back.

"All right, all right. Blah blah blah -- and Linda Stein and Vincent Chase," Eric called, and Turtle and Drama hooted while Vince recreated his final bow with the leading lady.

Turtle zipped up, came over near Eric and sat down. He laughed through his words as he yelled, "Yeah, bitch, take it all off!"

Eric rolled up the program and popped Turtle in the head. Drama opened a new bottle, slid closer to the others and smiled sloppily before applauding. Vince grinned, turned to bow at the empty air at his side and then for each of the guys individually.

"Hey, Vince," Drama called. "What's the show for next semester? You heard yet?"

"Mm, who knows," Vince answered, sliding in between his brother and Eric. He took the bottle and tilted his head back. "The Grapes of Wrath or something."

"There a part for me in that, you think?"

"Sure, yeah. We'll get you a part," Vince promised, and some days Eric almost admired the way Vince always meant what he said, even with stuff he really had no control over.

"They gotta give you a part, Drama, man. Vince is the star. He can pull strings now." Turtle slapped Drama on the back and then laughed when Drama gagged. "Oh, shit, are you about to hurl?"

Turtle pushed at Drama until he made an effort to reach the side of the building. Eric watched them, watched Vince, flower petals still caught in his hair, and didn't look away when Vince caught him.

Vince looked down to check himself quickly. "What?"

Eric shrugged, grinned slightly. "You're a piece of work, you know that?"

Vince titled his head to the side and squinted, considering it, and then he threw his arm around Eric's shoulders. He tipped the booze back, swallowed. Handing the bottle off, he wiped his mouth, and Eric just chuckled.

" _What_?" Vince asked again.

Eric shook his head, brought the bottle to his lips. He said, "Nothing," and turned to gaze out over the campus.

 

 

 

_twenty_

Laura was around for four months. The only movie Vince had done at that point was some college kid's independent short film -- five hundred bucks for a four-day project -- but Vince took her everywhere and bought her everything she wanted to keep her happy. Nearly every time Eric stopped by Vince and Drama's place three blocks from the Sbarro after shifts, she was either sleeping in Vince's bed or on her way out or stopping by five minutes after Eric walked in the door.

"You're practically attached at the hip," Eric said toward the beginning of the relationship.

"The man's in love," Drama concluded.

Turtle said, "Nah, the man is pussy-whipped; there's a difference."

"No, no. For real, Vince, what's up with you and her?"

Vince thought. He said, "Laura's just -- a very cool girl." And it wasn't like anybody could say differently, because they had all met her. They had all liked her.

Eric couldn't remember any break up between them. There was Vince and Laura, then there was Vince without Laura, and Eric hadn't noticed the difference until Drama mentioned being able to walk from the bathroom to his bedroom after a shower without worrying about wrapping a towl around his ass.

"You guys broke up?" Turtle asked over pancakes at their favorite diner.

Vince made some dismissive gesture with his hand and drank his orange juice. Not that any of them were shocked or even a little sad to see another girl go, but Eric thought maybe they'd all made the mistake of starting to believe Laura was Vince's girlfriend, although Vince had never used the word himself.

 

 

 

_twenty-five_

Initially, there were some high-rises in Manhattan Eric circled for them to look at, but Turtle said, "Manhattan? Come on, we've lived here for _ever_. If we're gonna get a place, let's do it right."

"You want to come out west?" Drama asked.

Three months later, Ari had Vince signed and his first major job booked. Shooting was in Los Angeles for fifty-four days, a metropolitan area big enough to be familiar, but far away enough to be different.

So Vince and Turtle put together some cash and spent months in Hollywood with Drama, crashing into one another in a too-small, overpriced crackerjack apartment. They searched for a new place to live during the day, something they could buy when Vince made his first decent check and added it to Johnny's savings, and they hung around set at night, drinking coffee with the crew and telling stories about back home while Vince filmed.

Once or twice, Vince made it back to the hotel just before the sun, and Turtle swore that was proof that he fucked his co-star. Vince never answered Turtle's questions though, so Eric doubted much happened, if anything.

Eric heard about it over the phone, Vince sometimes calling him when he knew Eric would be on his way into work. He said things like, "It's January, and I'm in flip-flops. Is it still snowing out there?" instead of asking Eric to come out anymore.

Halfway through their first week in town, Vince had taken the phone from Turtle, and said, "I keep wanting to tell you to drive over. Why aren't you ten minutes away, E?"

When he finally moved, too, Eric liked to think his time in LA was limited. He told himself he would feel out the city for the first year, get a job and eventually his own place. Maybe he would even go back to New York, but then Vince introduced him to Kristen and 'temporary' meant at least two more years.

 

 

 

_twenty-eight_

The first time Eric slept with Vince, he had broken up with Kristen for the third time a few hours before. They were high, which made it feel like a bad trend, and Vince crouched over Eric awkwardly, leaning in to catch his mouth as Eric sat, back propped against a coffee table. The room was bathed in cable television neon blues.

Sports Center loud through the speakers, and Vince relaxed easily when Eric pushed at his collarbone. He murmured, "What are you -- what are we doing?" and Vince said, "You know I never know," but they did it anyway.

His mouth felt thick and swollen when he woke the next morning, Vince at his side and an arm thrown over Eric's middle. He pushed his tongue across his teeth, clearing his throat as he sat up and reached around to scratch at his shoulder blade where the floor had etched its flaws into his skin. Vince mumbled something incoherent as Eric moved away, but he resettled almost instantly, pulling one of the couch's throw pillows closer and exhaling resolutely.

Eric watched him, made sure Vince wouldn't wake, then pulled his pants up over his thighs and went to the kitchen. He splashed water on his face, gargled a mouthful of water and took a cigarette from the pack lying on the counter. He poked through drawers until he found a matchbook, lit the cigarette and leaned with the counter pressing into his stomach as he smoked. The view from this side of the house was pretty fucked, but Eric inhaled and just stared outside.

He knew when Vince did get up before he even reached the kitchen, footsteps creaking loose floorboads under carpeting as he walked. He stood next to Eric, snatched his cigarette and gauged his profile while he pulled on it.

"What time is your thing? The table reading's today, right?" Eric asked instead of everything he could have said, still a little groggy, a little tired, a little disbelieving.

Vince shrugged, lifted one shoulder. He said, "Not sure. It's not important."

Eric thought, _of course it's important_ , but he didn't make Vince talk about it. Vince passed back the cigarette, continuing their exchange without effort, and Eric had never made Vince do anything -- not at eleven, not at fifteen, not yesterday.

Vince asked, eventually, "But you'll be there, right? You're still coming down there with me."

And Eric said, "Yeah. Of course, Vince, yeah," because he couldn't think of a reason to let him think otherwise.


End file.
